The Wind
by Black666Hunter
Summary: There's another artist on Atlantis and he's found his muse. Read on to find out more.


The night sky was clear, the stars twinkling over Atlantis. A cool breeze danced across the vast city on the water, rustling in the plants, rippling the water. It ruffled the curtains as it slipped into one of the sleeping quarters, sending the soft fabric dancing into the open space like a ghost. The man in the bed snored softly, a melodic noise that danced with the wind and played through the room. His dark skin contrasted majestically with the white sheet spread across his lower body, trapped there by one calloused hand that pinned the soft fabric to his hip. The other arm hung loosely off the side of the bed, swinging ever so slightly with every breath he took. His fingers just touched the soft carpet on the floor as they moved, leaving tiny marks in the pile. One leg, the one on which his hand rested, was lying out almost straight, the knee bending back only slightly. The other leg was bent more, his toes just poking out from under the sheet. His powerful muscles glistened in the moonlight that poured through the windows. His wild hair lay scattered across his slowly moving, bare chest and the rumpled white pillow. One dreadlock lay snake-like across his cheek, moving ever so slightly with every breath. A tiny smile rested on his handsome face as he dreamed sweet, loving dreams about those he cared about. Nothing worried him as he slept, the cool breeze dancing across his skin like a lovers hands.

So lost in his dreams was this man, he didn't hear the soft whoosh as his door opened and a second figure stepped into the room, padding softly with bare feet on the soft carpet. This man smiled lovingly as he walked quietly over to the couch and sat down, watching the sleeping man closely. He ran one strong hand through his tousled black hair as he relaxed into the soft white couch, never taking his bright blue eyes off the resting man. He slowly set his backpack down on the floor and quietly opened it, pulling out an art folio and several sharpened pencils, an eraser and a small sharpener with an attached bin. These he lay out on the table silently, leaving just the ends of the pencils hanging off so he could grab them easily. He carefully opened his art folio to the next clear page, picked up a pencil and started to draw. He rarely had such a chance to draw the man laid out before him. Even tonight was not technically supposed to happen, but the artist couldn't resist just a perfect chance to catch the other side of him. The pencil made a barely sound as it moved skilfully across the page, catching the exact moment. Our artist had picked the perfect place to position himself; the subject was half facing him, the curtain not hiding a single beautiful detail, but still close enough to be included.

The artist worked on through the night, capturing every last detail of the scene laid out before him. The sturdy weapons his subject always wore were close to his hand in their black leather holsters. The gun was closer, a little more of a swing and he'd touch it. Both items looked harmless enough as they lay there, but the artist knew just how deadly they could both be. Several hair cuffs shone in the moonlight, adding tiny touches of highlights to the wild hair that lay sprawled around like sleeping snakes, seeming to have a life of their own when the subject was awake. The thickest one hung over his shoulder, resting gently on his chest. The artist smiled softly as he worked, trusting his abilities completely to capture the scene laid out before him with the detail only he could manage. He had seen this man in so many different situations, but here, when he was at his most beautiful was the moment he took to capture and treasure for the rest of his life. This was going to be his most precious memory of his friend, a stolen moment that showed the vulnerability that the bigger man tried to hide.

He set down the last pencil and smiled, looking at the work. It still wasn't finished and now he pulled out his charcoals and very slowly, started to add the depth and definition to the image. The shadows of the night as they wrapped around the room, only to be held back by the moonlight creeping in through the windows. The artist knew it wouldn't take long to get the details exactly right so onwards he pushed, despite his own need for sleep.

As the first splashes of dawn started to cross the horizon, the artist looked up from his work and nodded. It was finished. The page he held so lovingly in his hands was the perfect miniature of the beautiful vista spread out before him. Carefully he packed everything but his art folio away. This he carried carefully in both hands, not wanting to damage the image before he had time to put the setting agent on it to protect it, his finest work. He then rose and crept out, leaving no sign he was ever even there.

He returned to his quarters without meeting a single person. He sighed in relief and set the art folio down on his desk before grabbing a can of setter from the drawer and shaking it. He then carefully sprayed the image, sealing it against smudging and damage from accidental contact with anything. He left it open on his desk, the backpack just nearby before crossing the room and crawling into bed to get whatever sleep he could.

'Thank ye Ronon.' he uttered before sleep claimed him.

~FIN~


End file.
